


Six Degrees

by SoulOfAFangirl684



Category: Naruto
Genre: Character Study, Dissociation, Epilogue/Boruto characters, Family, Friendship, Gaara's Adopted Family, Gen, Mentions of Filler Arcs, OC Story, OC is Matsuri's daughter, One-Sided Attraction, POV Alternating, Parenthood, Post-Canon, Single Parents, Temporary Amnesia, Unplanned Pregnancy, Unrequited Crush, agonizing over the future, child characters, filler characters - Freeform, loosely based on a song, reincarnated OC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-06-30 09:36:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15749040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoulOfAFangirl684/pseuds/SoulOfAFangirl684
Summary: Six Degrees. A flash of long blonde hair. The clanking of machinery. And then utter nothingness. For the longest time, these four things were the only memories I had of my first life.





	1. A Broken Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes, story ideas just come to me. This time, it was more that I got this character (the central OC) stuck in my head and the more I started to flesh her out, the more I wanted to actually write her into a story. And I knew I wanted to write a Naruto story like this one in general-- where a reincarnated OC doesn't have all her memories when she's reborn and slowly starts to remember who she used to be. And I wanted to do something to explore Matsuri a little more too. (Who, I've come to learn, is apparently a very unpopular character.) I fully suspect that a Matsuri, OC- centric story isn't going to appeal to the majority of Naruto fans, but I figured I'd share it anyway. 
> 
> Also, beware the alternating POVs right off the bat.

It was exactly six degrees outside the day that I died. This memory was not one of the simple ones. Six degrees. For some reason, this was not a detail I seemed capable of remembering on its own. It was always, _always_ accompanied by a flash of long blonde hair as its owner spontaneously changed her path and darted in front of me, the clanking of machinery just out of sight, and then a seemingly endless sensation of numbness.

For the longest time, these four things were the only memories I had of my first life. Six degrees. Blonde hair. Construction in the distance. Nothingness. These bits and pieces would come back to me unexpectedly, with such frustrating clarity. Frustrating because, though the individual pieces would be so clear, I could never seem to fit them together to make the whole picture. Four things that remained stubbornly disconnected. And then they would float away from me completely—no matter how desperately I tried to hold on—just as suddenly as they’d appeared.

**…………**

Lord Kankuro gave her an odd look as he stepped back into the Kazekage’s quarters to announce her desire for a visit. Her hands were tingling with nerves. She must look awful, she knew. Kankuro had not even asked why she had shown up—at this hour—at their personal residence rather than wait to make her visit to his office, at a more reasonable time. She had been nothing but the consummate professional, after all, since receiving her headband as a child. (Well, or so most people thought, anyway.) It was not unfair to say this was strange behavior on her part, indeed.

But Kankuro did not ask, and for that she was grateful. He reappeared at the door and gestured her inside, saying, “Yeah, go ahead, he’ll see you.”

“Thank you.” She bowed her head respectfully and followed him in to where his brother sat behind the desk in the study. It should not have surprised her that the Kazekage apparently took his work home with him. He was the busiest person in the village. And in all these years, there had never been a reason for her respect to falter. Of course, in her case, the bar seemed to be set awfully low if _respect_ was all that was asked of her.

“Matsuri,” he greeted pleasantly in his usual mild way. She was sure he was curious, but nothing in his tone suggested that he was bothered by her intrusion. She took a small measure of solace in this. “Is everything all right?”

“Yes,” she managed, putting as much confidence behind the blatant lie as she could muster. “Thank you for agreeing to see me, Lord Kazekage. I realize the hour is less than… professional. But I need to speak with you regarding my… status as a shinobi.”

His expression remained open, encouraging her to continue. And she would have, if she weren’t so suddenly aware of Kankuro standing in the corner, monitoring the conversation with unabashed curiosity. Her eyes flickered to him for just a fraction of a second. She was determined to power through any self-consciousness, but the Kazekage’s perception was as sharp as could be expected.

“Kankuro, thank you for another long day. Why don’t you retire for the night?”

It did not take long for the effects of that long day to win out over his curiosity, and he shrugged and headed for the door. It was technically official business they were discussing. He would find out sooner or later. Everyone would… “If you’re sure.”

A small smile graced Gaara’s features. “I don’t think I have to worry about an attack from Matsuri. Get some rest.”

“You too,” his brother said seriously before leaving them alone.

Gaara waited a few seconds before turning back to her. He nodded for her to continue, signaling that they now had the privacy she desired.

“Right so…” Her throat was suddenly very dry. “I’ve come to ask… to be put on leave for… a while.”

His expression remained carefully nonjudgmental as he surveyed his first student—the only one he’d ever ended up taking on—wondering what exactly was going through her head. “You wish to put your career as a shinobi on hold? I must say this is unexpected. Is there any particular reason why?”

And here came the hard part. “As you know, I was recently sent on a mission to the Land of Waves. While there, I didn’t… behave myself in a manner befitting of a shinobi.”

His brows—at least the place where they would be—furrowed. “I have not received any reports of misconduct.”

“It wasn’t… while I was on duty,” she tried to explain haltingly.

The Kazekage—bless his ability to see the best in everyone—didn’t seem to be catching on. When he simply waited for her to go on, Matsuri felt her face pale. No turning back now.

“I’m pregnant.”

There was the moment of silence she’d been dreading, but she stoutly maintained eye contact. To his credit, Gaara quickly got a handle on his surprise. “I see. Have you made any plans about… after?”

It was the first time she could remember him sounding even a little flustered since the day he’d taken her on as a student. And even then he’d only been astounded that anyone would _want_ to be his student. She nodded slowly. “Yes. The daycare system the village is setting up should be complete by that time. I would avoid taking long missions, if possible. At least until… the child is old enough to stay alone for a while. But I would like to return to active duty after… the birth.”

She groaned internally at her stilted answers. As if it could be any more obvious that she had just barely come to terms with this new development herself. But he didn’t comment on her hesitation. “Of course. That won’t be a problem.”

She bowed her head. “Thank you, Lord Gaara. I really appreciate this.”

“Matsuri?” he called softly when she turned to go. She looked back and saw that same small smile he’d given Kankuro. “Congratulations.”

She felt the first genuine smile she’d formed all day cross her face. “Thank you.”

**…………**

It had been the last day of school before the winter break and, in spite of the excitement that accompanied this knowledge, it had been utterly ordinary. As ordinary as the walk home should have been.

But Jenna had been in a mood—considerably more affected by that excitement than I was—and wanted to take the long way home. Despite her main complaint.

“It’s so _cold_!” she exclaimed, forcing me to pull back abruptly as she jumped over to my side of the railroad tracks without warning, her long blonde hair coming _this_ close to whipping me across the face as she did. But I had to smile. Jenna’s energy was something I’d grown fond of as a toddler. One of those constants in my life that I would be lost without. The same way she’d grown used to the presence of a more levelheaded friend to reign her in.

“Six degrees,” I confirmed, glancing down at the weather app on my phone. “First snow of the year should start tonight.”

Jenna groaned theatrically at this news, even though it was awfully late in the season for this part of the country to still be awaiting the first snow of the year in mid-December. “Ugh! When I get older, I’m going to live somewhere it _never_ snows!”

What came next was a big blank for a long time, even after my memories started coming back. One second I was walking home as usual with a childhood friend, the air bitterly cold, our conversation punctuated by the sounds of a nearby construction site. The next, nothing.

**…………**

After all these months of resigning herself to her fate, Matsuri finally let the tears fall. She had done it. September first would no longer be just another blank day on the calendar.

She made no effort to get up from the hospital bed. It had been a long morning. So she stared patiently at the ceiling, letting the nurses do their job. She made no effort to wipe away her tears either. The baby had been reluctant to cry. Perfectly healthy, she’d been assured, but reluctant to cry. Not unlike herself. The comparison brought a certain warmth to her heart.

But nothing like the wave that washed over her when the nurse returned to reunite her with her child. Her daughter. Hisako.


	2. The Second Part

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know there's the 'POV Alternating' tag up there and I mentioned it briefly before the last chapter, but there is something of a format to the POV switches, so just to clarify that a little... Each chapter will have four parts: One following Matsuri's story, One following Hisako, One looking into/being told from the perspective of Hisako's first life, and then a sort of omniscient POV, meant to be told from Hisako's perspective once this story is over and she's remembered everything. (Not in that order, but hopefully that clears up any confusion.) 
> 
> Also, the 'Dissociation' tag is in regards to Hisako uncovering her past memories and not illuding to an actual disorder or illness.

“When I get older, I’m going to live somewhere it _never_ snows!”

These were the last words she ever said to me. As much a part of that last memory as the blond hair, the construction sounds, the six degrees, and the nothingness. But for some reason, this part didn’t come back to me immediately. Perhaps it was meant to stay forever lodged in my subconscious, out of reach.

I’d never claim to have a deeper understanding of the universe just because I had experienced death and been reincarnated. I suspected it was only due to some mistake on the universe’s part that I had this awareness of my past at all. But it wasn’t always this way. And it would only be in hindsight, years later, that I’d wonder if this last memory had held some sort of sway over my next life too. If Jenna’s last words had lodged in my very being and that’s why I ended up where I did.

**…………**

The sun was just starting its ascent over the horizon, but it was promising to be another blistering day. There was no summer quite like a desert summer. And though this was her home and the scorching heat was just another fact of her life, there were some days Matsuri would wonder how they hadn’t all just adapted to be a nocturnal society by now.

She supposed they’d simply adapted in other ways. Despite the early hour, there were already a crowd’s worth of people out and about in the streets. And watching them with rapt curiosity was Hisako.

At four years old, her daughter was still small enough to lean her full weight against the windowsill without a worry. Small and with the same pale complexion as most of the people in this village. Hair the same dull brown as Matsuri’s own and an underlying toughness she was already proud of. Only Hisako’s eyes suggested the certain bright quality that Matsuri also saw and loved in her. Her daughter’s eyes were the one feature that reminded people there had been another piece in the equation, if only briefly. A bright hazel color that tended to lean towards being more green than brown, even without any greenery in their surroundings to influence this.

Had Hisako’s father’s eyes been hazel? Matsuri supposed they must have been, though in truth she could not pull up any vivid memories of his appearance. She was reasonably certain he had been blond… She remembered him being at least as forward as she herself had been that night—she’d settled on him for his confidence. But that was all, really. If they’d exchanged names, his had not stuck with her.

And perhaps this had not been behavior appropriate for a respectable shinobi off-duty for the night in a foreign land, but any regrets she might once have had had dissipated over the course of the last four years. During her pregnancy, when she’d first started noticeably showing, Sari’s suggestion had been to own it. She’d made her bed and was prepared to lie in it, and she was the only one with a right to an opinion on the matter, one way or another.

Of all her friends, Sari’s support had been the most uplifting to her. Yukata had been all too happy to help fawn over baby clothes and speculate wildly about the future—make her impending motherhood sound fun instead of absolutely terrifying. Mikoshi had risen to the challenge—one of her few male friends who had not paled in the face of her circumstances—and helped her with the logistics, better outlining the reality of her future as both an active shinobi and a single mother. But she knew it was Sari—still nursing her own crush, albeit to a more harmless degree—who really understood how these ‘circumstances’ had come about in the first place.

Four years ago, she’d been a young woman just starting to come to terms with a hopeless one-sided crush that was more befitting of a foolish little girl. Her spontaneous one-night stand had been a rash attempt to reclaim her life… leading to much bigger changes than she’d been looking for. Truthfully, her decision to keep the baby had been rather selfish too. Staring down Gaara that day had been almost enough to break her. But no. She would force herself to change if she needed to. And there was no distraction quite like a new baby.

And now… Well, perhaps she did still experience an extra burst of fondness when looking upon the Kazekage, but she’d known true love the day she met her daughter and an unrequited crush no longer seemed so life-altering.

“You about ready to go?” she called now. Hisako hopped down from her perch with a big smile, running over to take her mother’s hand and grabbing her backpack from its hook all in one fluid motion.

“I’ve been ready all day!” she claimed.

Matsuri chuckled. “Well, that’s impressive, considering the day hasn’t even started yet.”

Hisako didn’t seem to see the problem with this logic, and so they started on their way. She really was in luck with the village-wide daycare system. Along the same lines as the orphanage reforms, the daycare was just one of many systems put into place after the war. It serviced villagers from all walks of life, but it was certainly set up in a way that was particularly advantageous to shinobi. Open 24/7, there would always be someone on duty to look after the children whose parents had to be away.

The system had its critics, of course. Matsuri herself had heard complaints that having a childcare organization available at all times encouraged irresponsible behavior. That it was a free pass for some people to neglect their children without consequence. But Matsuri knew better. On top of his regular workload, she knew Gaara kept a close eye on the shinobi under his command who had families to look after. The Kazekage had the final say in all mission assignments, after all. He kept their work schedule appropriate whenever possible.

And she was sure that at least some of his passion for this undertaking came from becoming a father himself. Just a year earlier, the Kazekage had adopted an orphaned boy showing early signs of the very bloodline limit that ran in his own family. She had heard rumors that he was being pressured by the council to produce an heir, but she trusted his heart was in the right place.

And on a more personal level, Matsuri couldn’t image there being a real abundance of people abusing the system to get away from their kids. She turned to smile fondly at her daughter, but Hisako stopped very suddenly, a frighteningly blank look on her face.

**…………**

Hisako. That is my name. Though I knew this as a definite fact, whenever Mama would introduce me—whenever I had to say my own name—something would always feel… wrong. My own name was the one that always sent my mind searching, scrambling to recall a time _before_ I was Hisako.

Which I knew didn’t make any sense. Those memories I was searching for never surfaced. There was nothing before I was Hisako. Just one big blank spot. I expected this was because I was trying to remember a time when I was too young to know who I was, but that didn’t feel quite right either.

Mama always got a funny kinda look on her face when I asked these sorts of questions, though, so I tried not to anymore. But it was hard sometimes. Sometimes a question that would seem perfectly reasonable to me would lead to that same face.

I wondered sometimes if other people didn’t feel the way I did—like there was always some memory just out of reach. It was incredibly frustrating. Sometimes I could focus on nothing else and would stop whatever I was doing… until one of the other kids at daycare would say something and I’d realize I’d been staring openly at the nothingness all my searching produced.

This was the first day I made any progress… found something more than nothing… and when I wasn’t even looking. Mama and I were walking to daycare, just like we did every day. There were older kids playing in the street just like always too. But today, something changed. The ball they were playing with came flying across our path, landing in a mound of sand just ahead.

But suddenly, I wasn’t standing in the village beside my mother anymore. There was no path. Just sand. And the sun was a lot higher in the sky. The ball that had flown past me had had enough force behind it to spray sand over the page of the book I had open before me.

A shrill laugh reached my ears. _“Sorry, Ronnie! Throw it back?”_

I reached for the ball to comply except… Already the scene was slipping away. I sighed with an annoyance that didn’t belong to me. When I stretched to get the ball, the arm obeying my command was too long to be mine. And then I looked up and gasped. The desert before me was made entirely of water. And it was moving on its own! Rushing in towards me and then pulling back. And then something was shaking me, and it was just gone.

**…………**

While Matsuri had been lost in thought, Hisako had come to a sudden stop. Not a second later, a small white ball came flying across their path, stopped by the sand just a foot from the spot where Hisako stood. Matsuri was about to commend her daughter on her reflexes—it would still be a few years before she was old enough to start attending the ninja academy—but then she stopped too.

Hisako remained rooted to the spot, staring at the ball. But her gaze was oddly blank, as if her mind was very far away. And Matsuri was reminded of the terrifying half of motherhood. The moments when something went wrong and she had no idea how to fix it. The way it was impossible to be prepared for everything.

Having had little experience with children before raising her own, Matsuri had been delighted nearly every step of the way. The actual childcare had been pretty much what she was expecting. But Hisako herself had brought a twist to everything. The moment she first seemed consciously aware that all she had to do if she wanted to be coddled was wail loudly enough—and Matsuri, a seasoned kunoichi, realized she was being manipulated by a being only months old. The moment she was learning to walk and refused to move a muscle lest Matsuri let her do it all on her own, resulting in another burst of pride within her chest. There were too many to count.

But there were also moments like these—nearly from day one—when Hisako would just check out, lost in thought. Though never quite as suddenly or as completely as this. And the blank look—the absolute nothingness behind those normally bright eyes—sent a jolt of terror straight through to her very core.

“Hisako.” When the girl showed no recognition of her name, Matsuri placed both hands on her shoulders and shook her daughter gently. “Hisako!”

The life returned to her features, all at once. If anything, Hisako seemed confused by her mother's obvious relief. Did she not realize she’d been acting strangely?

“Mama?” she said then, confirming her suspicions. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Matsuri answered after a second’s hesitation. She realized the two boys were standing awkwardly a few feet away, waiting to retrieve their ball. Impatiently, Matsuri grabbed the ball with a single hand, leaving the other anchored to her to her daughter, and tossed it back to them. But she stared at Hisako for another second before moving on. “Are you all right?”

“Of course,” Hisako answered. “Aren’t we going to daycare?”

“Yes. Of course.” Matsuri straightened back up and they continued their walk. But something _was_ still off about Hisako. And a few minutes later, she spoke again, looking as if she were trying to puzzle something out.

“Mama? When did we go to the beach?”

“What?” Matsuri looked down at her daughter in surprise. But Hisako was staring back, eyes wide and innocent, awaiting an answer. “We’ve never been to the beach, honey.”

She frowned, her eyebrows pulling together in confusion. “Never?”

“No. But we can someday. Would you like to see the beach?”

Hisako nodded slowly, but didn’t lose her puzzled expression. And so the persistent uneasiness in Matsuri’s stomach remained as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've always found Matsuri to be a very interesting character… And I always found it a little curious that she is so strongly disliked. Not by everyone, I’m sure… There’s me, at least. But I do have to say that I think a lot of fans felt threatened by her presence as a possible love interest for Gaara. (We anime fans do get rather serious about our shipping.) But I feel like there was always more to her than her crush on Gaara. Her character in the Chunin Exams filler arc was of a ninja who was fierce and loyal. She had certainly come a long way from the little girl who was afraid to even wield a weapon in practice that she was at her introduction. I kind of hope to keep both parts of her alive in this story. But that’s just my mini ramble for the day.


	3. When Your World Splits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will say this. If there’s one thing I’ve been self-conscious about while writing this story, it’s my general inability to believably write in a child’s voice. I’d totally pull the whole ‘Well, it’s Hisako’s suppressed memories of her older self leaking through!’ excuse, but… let’s be real. It’s just me.

Jenna was my oldest friend and so my closest one almost by default. But if I had been more outgoing, this may not have been the case. Though she always seemed to enjoy my company, I wouldn’t have been surprised to learn she was closer to someone else. Jenna _was_ outgoing. And loud. And cheerful. Not much of a scholar, but this was something most people were willing to overlook. She was the kind of person who could get away with anything but, as far as I knew, was never mean-spirited about it.

But perhaps I was a little biased when it came to Jenna. Willing to downplay the flaws that I knew she did have. I was the mousier friend. Reserved where she was personable. Good at academics but not much else. And yet, she always came back to me, which I wasn’t one to forget.

In truth, it’s not as if Jenna could have cut me off and avoided me entirely, even if she’d wanted to. She was my oldest friend by circumstance. I had known her nearly all my life. We were neighbors and quickly began treating our two backyards as a single entity. There weren’t many kids on our street, but through some stroke of fate, we were exactly the same age, to the day.

We lived in one of those cookie-cutter neighborhoods where the houses had been mass-produced and all looked exactly the same. I would know. When we were kids, I had spent almost as much time in Jenna’s house as I had my own. We lived only two streets down from the school in a small town that wasn’t wealthy by any means. Hence, by the time we reached junior high, the school system had deemed we were old enough for it to be a waste of fuel for our streets to be included in the bus route. And so Jenna and I walked to and from school together every day for most of our lives. So even with our differing personalities and interests, Jenna and I didn’t grow apart as we grew older.

And, even in hindsight, I have no regrets when it comes to our friendship.

**…………**

The year Hisako was five, Matsuri was called into the Kazekage’s office for personal reasons.

“Thank you for meeting with me,” he said, gesturing for her to relax and take the seat across from him.

“Of course,” she said, curious. “May I ask what this is about?”

“I was hoping for a more personal opinion on the daycare system.”

She had to admit she was surprised. “In regards to further policy provisions?”

“Not exactly. I am more interested in what you’ve gleaned about the general atmosphere. How Hisako likes spending the day there.” Finally, he revealed, “I would like to send Shinki there during the day.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Really? I’m sorry, I know it’s none of my business… He spends his days now at home with a nanny, right?”

Gaara nodded. “Yes. And he will start attending the academy in a year regardless, but I think it would be best for him to start interacting with kids his age sooner rather than later. Shinki is rather… isolated right now. I fear I’ve provided him a home but cut him off from the rest of the world.” His mouth twisted into a sad smile. “Many of the other children in the village are intimidated by the mere idea of approaching the Kazekage’s son. I’m hoping all that’s needed to remedy this is more exposure.”

Matsuri thought on this for a moment and then laughed a little before she could stop herself. When he looked at her quizzically, she explained, “I can’t speak for the other kids, but Hisako can be a little fearless. I can’t picture her being scared away by a title. I think it’s worth a try. You should do it.”

He smiled warmly at her then, and Matsuri felt her heart flutter—a response she had surely thought she’d grown out of by now. “Thank you.”

**…………**

I had not made any more progress since the day with the ball, but within the last year, I had gained a deeper understanding of the meaning of _subtlety_. I knew now that it was precisely those memories I was struggling to uncover that gave Mama that funny look. Was it the nothingness that scared her, too?

I replayed that scene at the beach over and over in my mind. I lost track of how many times. It was so short. And I couldn’t make sense of hardly any of it. The desert of water was called the _ocean_. Mama had cleared up that much. And I’d been able to find better, bigger images of it in picture books. The rest of it, I wasn’t so sure.

“Got your head in a book _again_?”

I looked up, a little annoyed, from the guidebook I’d been studying. I kept my voice as flat as possible, hoping to indicate that I had no interest in talking to the girl standing before me. “Hi, Umi.”

“How come you’re always looking at the books?” my daycare-mate demanded, hands on her hips, clearly not taking the hint. “We all know you can’t read yet.”

This was not strictly true. The daycare program _had_ started its instruction on reading and writing. It was just that none of us were writing in full sentences yet. I could pick the name ‘Hisako’ out of a wall of text, as well as a few basic words, but otherwise my efforts in this particular skill had been… concentrated. I could read many water-themed words and thus was better able to screen the books that would be of most interest to me.

“I don’t care what it says,” I answered, turning the page. “I just want to see the ocean.”

And this was true. The episode—memory?—I’d had that day seemed to have triggered something deep within me. Was access to the ocean the thing that was missing in my life? I wasn’t sure. All I could really say for certain was that not being able to go see it in person—particularly in deep summer like it was now—just felt inherently _wrong_ somehow. The same way the name Hisako didn’t feel like it belonged to me.

A mean smile took form on Umi’s face. I wondered what had dawned on her while I had been lost in my own thoughts. But I wouldn’t have to wait long to find out, I was sure. There didn’t seem to be much that Umi kept to herself.

“The Land of Waves, huh?” she said, taking a better look at my guidebook. “Oh, I see. Is it _really_ the ocean you want to see? Are you going to go find your daddy?”

I tried not to show any interest in her words, hoping she’d give up soon and just leave me alone. “I don’t have a father.”

“That’s not what I heard,” Umi continued in a singsong voice. “ _My_ father said your dad is some ‘deadbeat’ from the Land of Waves. And your mom had you out of ‘wedlock.’ And that makes you a ‘bastard!’” she finished triumphantly, clearly proud to have remembered all the unfamiliar words correctly.

Even so, her words didn’t have the desired effect. I leaned a little closer. Umi may not have been very nice, but she seemed very knowledgeable all of a sudden. I was just about to ask what ‘wedlock’ was when a torrent of sand rushed between us.

When I turned my head, I saw the new boy—Shinki—standing a foot away. He had tipped over a jar filled with sand with a scowl on his face. “Leave her alone.”

Umi hesitated and he raised his arms, fingers splayed. I watched, fascinated, as the sand began to move. Very slowly. Just enough to form an upward point. But Umi shrieked and ran away. It didn’t look all that scary to me, but maybe this was why Shinki always seemed to be alone.

Neither of us moved for a minute after she was gone. Then Shinki’s arms dropped, and the sand felt with them. He sat down, breathing hard, and I watched him catch his breath. When he had managed this, he said to me, “I don’t have a mother.”

What an odd thing to say. But then, many things the other children said often made little sense to me. I tried to find the connection. “Oh. Does that mean you’re a bastard too?”

He scowled again. “I’m an orphan.”

I just waited, considering this.

“Well, not anymore,” he said after a moment. “I’m adopted now.”

I remained silent until I was sure he didn’t have anything else to say. “Cool.” I brushed sand off the page of my book and showed him the picture of a perfectly crested wave. “That thing with the sand. Can you make it look like this?”

Shinki wasn’t alone after that. It turned out to be beneficial for both of us. Having Shinki by my side made me look less serious and strange to the others. (If only because he was so serious himself.) And spending all his time with another person—even just one—lessened the pressure from the teachers that he make friends.

We didn’t do much at first. I stuck to my books and he stuck to me, occasionally letting me talk him into playing with his sand to make certain shapes. But I grew used to his company. The only person I’d ever really been close to before was Mama. This wasn’t something I’d ever really thought about before. Maybe because, now that I had, it was another one of those things that just felt _wrong_.

The wrongness wasn’t something I ever tried to explain to Shinki, though we talked about plenty of other things. Like how most other kids had a mother _and_ father while it was just Mama and me in my house and a father and an uncle in his. Shinki said the orphanage—a home for kids who didn’t have _any_ family while they waited to be adopted—had been nice but the other kids hadn’t. Like Umi, they had been scared by the way he could move the sand. (Which I thought was kinda funny because he could only move it a little before he got really tired.) But his new father had told him that it wasn’t a bad ability all on its own. It just depended on how he _used_ the sand, and so he was already in training.

Training was a strange concept to me. Doing the same things over and over until you got better at them. The only comparison I had was the way I could read about the same foreign places over and over again. But even then, I usually tried to find different books, and Shinki said that was more like studying. To Shinki, it was the idea of _not_ training that was strange.

“Your mother’s a ninja, isn’t she?” he asked one day.

“Sure,” I answered with a shrug.

“So you’re going to join the academy next year, like me.”

I shrugged again. I supposed so. I’d never really thought about it before.

This seemed especially confusing to Shinki. Later, he would tell me that he had also heard the rumors that my father hailed from the Land of Waves. He thought I was so interested in the place because I might have inherited a water chakra nature. Whatever that meant. I told him again that I didn’t _have_ a father, and he let it go.

Shinki went on to talk about how he was going to be a great ninja someday and make his adoptive father proud. It was one of his favorite topics, though I found it a little boring. In fact, a lot of people seemed to talk about Shinki’s father and making him proud. I gathered that he must be someone very important. I would have to ask Mama about it sometime.

**…………**

Matsuri sipped at her tea slowly, her mind far away. Inside the Kazekage’s quarters, to be exact. She and Gaara had been giving each other updates on occasion in regards to the daycare collusion. It was nothing special; just a few extra updates whenever she checked in after her missions. But these moments did have a certain… intimacy to them that the two hadn’t shared since her days as his student.

It was just that the topic was more personal, she reasoned. Obviously, he loved his child as much as she loved her own, and this wasn’t a wall he was afraid to break down around her. Indeed, Matsuri had never seen his eyes shine quite the way they had when Shinki made his first friend. His first real connection with anyone his own age. And that friend…

Matsuri’s eyes drifted over to the little couch under the front window where Hisako lay now, arms splayed, looking up at the ceiling. It was a rather perfect fit. It had not really occurred to her before, maybe because Hisako always spoke of the other daycare kids and their adventures, but her daughter hadn’t really had any friends either. At least, there was no one name in her stories that stuck out more than the others. No one kid that she seemed to spend most of her time with. Until now.

Every few minutes or so, Hisako would giggle, seemingly at nothing. But the sound was enough to bring a smile to Matsuri’s face.

“What’s so funny?” she asked lightly, a laugh already in her own voice.

Hisako turned her head to look at her mother, smile wide, eyes sparkling. “You know what Umi said today, Mama?”

Matsuri recognized the name of one of the other daycare girls. She was a few years older than Hisako, and Matsuri sometimes thought she looked a little falsehearted. But Hisako had never complained outright, except to say that she talked a lot. She worried sometimes, though, what Umi talked _about_. “What did she say?”

Hisako laughed again, unable to contain herself at the memory. “She tried to tell me Shinki is a _prince_!”

Matsuri felt her mouth quirk into a wry smile at her daughter’s hysterics. Well… Umi wasn’t entirely wrong. Shinki’s status as the Kazekage’s son _did_ make him akin to a prince in the Land of Wind. But she didn’t expect Hisako to understand this connection just yet. And perhaps it was better for their friendship if she didn’t. So Matsuri just smiled and waited for her laughter to die down. “You don’t think Shinki is like a prince?”

“He _can’t_ be a prince, Mama!” Hisako answered as if this should be obvious. “He doesn’t smile!”

Matsuri laughed but didn’t try to contradict her. It was an interesting logic. And it didn’t seem to bother Hisako that her friend was too serious to smile. But who knew? Maybe he was more relaxed at home. Already, she’d noticed that her own daughter was quite different when it was just the two of them. She had seen Hisako and Shinki together a few times now, usually with a book open before them. They were like a pair of mini adults, discussing everything as if it was of the utmost importance.

Yes, they made quite a pair. And she was glad they got along for their own sakes, of course. But she enjoyed her extra talks with Gaara too. Perhaps a little more than she should, she sometimes feared. That _was_ an infatuation she was supposed to have grown out of, after all. And the way her heart continued to skip a beat in his presence was just enough to leave her a little troubled.


	4. Fixing Yourself

It’s the smile that makes a prince. I was the one who came up with that rule. It had been Jenna’s first time inside my house. The real first time. For longer than just to pop into the kitchen because my mom had made brownies or something. I had stood awkwardly, self-consciously by my bed while Jenna wandered curiously around my room.

“There are so many books!” she exclaimed at one point. And it was true. Even that young, three of my four walls had been home to bookcases. I had nodded shyly, afraid I wasn’t reading her tone quite right. From day one, Jenna had never been much of a reader. But when she turned back to me, her awe seemed genuine and positive. “Wow! Have you really read them _all_?”

“Not all of them…” It wasn’t a lie. There was still half a shelf I hadn’t gotten to yet. As I got older, I would get into the habit of picking up new books at a faster rate than I could read the ones I already owned. By the time I died, there would be piles of books around the edges of my room that could no longer fit in my bookcases.

“I bet you’re just saying that to make me feel better!” Her laugh was open. She didn’t seem bothered. “Which one’s your favorite?”

To Jenna, a book was a book. There was no real point in trying to explain the complexities in choosing one over another. But I pointed out a large, worn hardcover of abridged fairy tales. As Jenna curiously pried it out of its space, I backtracked hesitantly, “I mean, I guess it’s a little young for me now…”

But Jenna was unconcerned. “Nah, fairy tales are cool. Does it have _Rapunzel_?”

I remember smiling and taking the book from her. It wasn’t much of a surprise that she was drawn to that particular story. Her own long blond hair was something Jenna would grow into. At that age, it had seemed almost too big for her, constantly needing to be pushed back from her face. She would also grow into Rapunzel’s imprisonment as we grew older, feeling suffocated by our small town.

We had remained in my room for hours, poring over the various fairy tales, acting out the most exciting parts. Despite my fears, Jenna didn’t tire of this activity. She seemed to enjoy being read to, even if she never would have picked up the book herself. Late that afternoon, we’d come across the ballroom scene in _Cinderella_. The pictures were all old-timey black and white drawings. On one page was Cinderella making her entrance. The page opposite was the reaction shot of all the guests. Except there were so many guests that they all had to be drawn really small and none of them had much detail.

Jenna scrutinized this picture closely, eyes darting across the page. “Which one is the prince?”

I hesitated… before pointing out one of the male figures near the front of the crowd.

Jenna propped herself up on her elbows, trying to get a closer look. “What? How can you tell?”

In truth, there was no real indication of which one was supposed to be the prince. There had really only been one detail on the figure I’d pointed out that had stood out to me. So that’s what I went with. “It’s his smile. See how his smile makes him stand out from the other faces? That’s how you know.”

Jenna bought it completely. “Wow! You’re right! It’s so cool how you always know stuff, Ronnie.”

“Don’t call me Ronnie,” I mumbled for what felt like the millionth time, but secretly, I was pleased.

**…………**

Sari’s little laugh was much too… giggly for Matsuri’s tastes. Her friend sat at her kitchen table, appearing unconcerned as she flipped the page of her magazine.

Matsuri scowled from where she was putting together their tea tray. “I don’t see what’s so funny. I pour my heart out and you _laugh_.”

“Sorry. It’s just this idea that you would stop being a human being with other feelings and whatnot just because you became a mother.”

Matsuri sighed. When she sat down across from her friend, there was no venom behind her words. “Oh, what would you know about it? It worked for a while.”

Sari laughed again. “Not a thing. Hopefully not for a long time. But if I had to guess, I’d say it’s because Hisako is getting old enough to be a little independent.”

“She’s _five_.”

“But she’s making friends. Starting to have her own life. And given who that friend is, maybe it’s not so strange that certain _feelings_ are reemerging.” Sari wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. When Matsuri groaned, she prodded in a singsong voice, “You can’t stop true love, Matsuri!”

“It is not _love_ ,” she said firmly. “It was some stupid teenage crush.”

“All romances start somewhere, right?” Matsuri jumped at the sound of Mikoshi’s voice. Her old teammate stood on the terrace just outside of the kitchen. He let himself in once his presence had been acknowledged and took a seat at the table.

He seemed unconcerned by Matsuri’s annoyance. “Not you too, Mikoshi.”

He shrugged and Sari giggled. “Oh, come on, Matsuri. It’s not like your little crush was some big secret. Or Yukata’s. Or mine. Find me a teenage girl our age who _didn’t_ have a crush on Lord Gaara and then I’ll be surprised.”

“Yeah, but those are the sort of crushes you’re supposed to grow out of.” Her protests were slowly becoming less assertive and more despondent.

“I don’t think it’s so strange that you didn’t grow out of yours,” Mikoshi said thoughtfully. Their curious looks were all he needed to jump whole-heartedly into his analysis. “Well, think about it. It’s not so strange for teenagers to develop a… romantic view of idols or celebrities. And you’re right. Then they mature and start to have a better appreciation for qualities that are more real to them, in people they know personally. But those celebrities are real people too. _Someone_ knows them personally.”

“Yeah!” Sari jumped in. “Hell, you’ve probably got a better chance than just about anybody. You were one of his first friends, weren’t you? His first student. You admired Lord Gaara even _before_ he became Kazekage, loved by all. I don’t think it’s unreasonable.”

“And it’s not like Hisako’s father is ever going to walk back into the picture,” said Mikoshi bluntly to a squawk of protest at his rudeness from Sari. “What do you have to lose?”

“The rest of my self-respect,” she answered dryly. “And a good chunk of his trust.”

“So nothing life-threatening then,” he replied calmly.

Matsuri sighed again as she got up from the table, but fondly this time. “You two are impossible.”

“What are friends for?” said Sari as they pushed their chairs back too. “You have to go pick up Hisako, right? Tell her I said hi. And,” she dropped her voice to a stage whisper, “that I left something sweet on her desk when her mom wasn’t looking!”

Matsuri rolled her eyes. “You spoil her. Are there _any_ rules when you babysit?”

Sari puffed up, mock offended. “Of course! I’ll have you know I’m a responsible adult.”

Mikoshi chuckled at their banter. “So responsible that you’ve kept Yukata waiting for about half an hour now. I stopped by because she didn’t want to lose your table if she went to look for you herself.”

“Oh!” Sari squeaked. “I totally forgot! I’ll see you both later!”

Matsuri glanced at Mikoshi out of the corner of her eye as their friend hurried away. A little slyly, she asked, “And since when are _you_ at Yukata’s beck and call, Mikoshi?”

It was her turn to laugh as his face flushed and her stammered out something incoherent. It was something to marvel at, really, how quickly a group of grown adults could turn back into children.

**…………**

“Why haven’t you made any other friends?”

Shinki and I were sitting on the edge of the porch, watching the other children play. He was tired out from training earlier, and I just wanted the peace and distance to think. I’d been dreaming a lot lately, adding a whole host of images to my memory that I couldn’t explain. More shots of the ocean from different perspectives. A big, whooshing machine the books had told me was called a train. The way it felt to stand in a field of snow—making familiar scenes look foreign. All things I shouldn’t have any way of knowing.

But Shinki’s question distracted me now. I turned my head to look at him slowly, but he didn’t seem to notice that he was interrupting something. “I don’t need any other friends.” When he seemed dissatisfied by this answer, I pressed, “Do you?”

Shinki shrugged. “No. But I’ll have one soon. Or rather, a brother.”

We were quiet for another moment, but I couldn’t focus again to reflect on my confusing dreams. His words had brought on another onslaught of that feeling of _wrongness_ that was becoming more and more common these days. There were a few things I knew to be fact. I had only one close friend, and neither of us had siblings. Now Shinki was trying to change the rules, and my mind was having trouble processing this. But he took my silence as an invitation to continue.

“Father is adopting another son. He says this other boy needs a home just like I did. That it’s our responsibility to make sure he’s not alone.”

I shrugged, finding something to clear my mind a little. “Well, we’ll both be in the academy for most of the day, starting next week. Maybe you won’t see much of him.”

Shinki gave me a withering look. “He’ll be going to the academy _with_ us, idiot.”

I rolled my eyes and lay back, blocking my view of the other kids. “Whatever.”

I shut my eyes tight, trying to block out any outside stimulus. Shinki had managed to set my mind awhirl, and the sensation was a little sickening. I tried my old tactics, focusing on the simple facts I knew to be true. The things that defined my being. But I experienced a jolt of panic when it didn’t work today. Now even my name—the first step—came up as a split path.

Where ‘Hisako’ should have been was something else. Another combination of sounds that I knew implicitly to be a name. Ra-ni? I turned the sounds over and over on my tongue but couldn’t manage to give them meaning. I was supplied with a series of shapes to accompany the sounds—Ronnie—but they were also unfamiliar.

_“Don’t call me Ronnie.”_

The words rang out in my ears as clear as day, and I shot back up into a sitting position, desperately trying to maintain my mental hold on the feeling of familiarity these words and this voice evoked in me… But already it was slipping away. My sudden movement had made Shinki jump, and his own expression turned to one of horror as tears filled my eyes.

There was not very much we did when we spent time together, and our conversations were admittedly sparse. But Shinki and I had come to know each other in ways beyond words. He quickly grabbed my arm and pulled me into the daycare center, away from any questioning looks from the supervisors. And finally, I told him everything.

How my curiosity about the water had not stemmed from questions about my father but, rather, questions about myself. How my own memories rarely made sense anymore. How the confusion and frustration this caused me was steadily morphing into true fear.

Shinki remained calm throughout it all. Perhaps remembering his training. Perhaps simply welcoming a distraction from his own worries. But at the end of my rant, he just nodded.

“We’ll figure it out. Whatever’s going on, we’ll fix it.”

Only later would it hit me that the next sensation had been familiar as well. The feeling of letting someone braver carry the weight of my problems.


	5. Someone Else

“When I get older, I’m going to live somewhere it _never_ snows!”

Jenna, with her volleyball scholarship to some pedigreed university in Florida, had already been well on her way to achieving this goal. My future had been less structured.

I’d always been a good student. On paper, at least. I’d never really gotten involved in any clubs, and sports were far out of my range of abilities, but my grades had always kept me in my teachers’ good graces. (Jenna had always had enough natural charm to skate by in this category as well.) But making plans for the future had gradually become the bane of my existence.

In truth, I didn’t have any real life ambitions. I enjoyed reading and writing and might have wanted my own stories published one day, but that didn’t really equate to a true dream.

Jenna was the one going places. I came up with just enough answers to get my teachers and parents off my back. I would major in English, because that’s what I was good at. All I knew for certain was that I didn’t want to teach. So, having had very little guidance as to what else one could do with an English degree, I had settled on editing. And, coming from a family that didn’t really understand how college worked any better than I did, this was enough to satisfy most people.

But as our last year of high school progressed… As Jenna’s future continued to come together, I started to feel more and more adrift. Like all that I knew was starting to slip away from me. And I suppose in a way it was. It was only near the end that I began to truly appreciate the extent to which I’d oriented myself around Jenna’s influence on my life. She was my oldest friend… but were we close enough that we would remain in touch once we went our separate ways after high school? I wasn’t sure. And I spent the last few years of my life struggling to come to terms with what this meant for me.

**…………**

Matsuri could not remember the last time she had felt this… lost. Unsure of where she was going with her life. Not since she’d been a teenager, certainly.

Hisako had started at the academy. She was continuing along in her own missions. And Lord Gaara had taken in another young boy who she knew her daughter spent time with but who she had not heard much about. And, due to this shift in their children’s lives, Matsuri’s regular meetings with the Kazekage had come to an end.

She was loathe to admit that this last element was the reason she was so dissatisfied with her life all of a sudden. It was bringing her back to a particularly rocky time in her life. Fed up with feeling like a foolish little girl, plagued by an ever-encroaching feeling of self-loathing. Prone to acting in ways she was not entirely proud of. Ways in which she did not have the freedom to act these days.

Her friends had not been wrong. Motherhood, for all its other magical qualities, had not wiped away her crush entirely. Though it had given her an excellent distraction.

Hisako had remained very much the same. Very inquisitive and very bright, if a little odd. But that oddness had grown with her, and what Matsuri had once found to be a little unsettling had increasingly become something to truly worry about. So often, Hisako _seemed_ to be perfectly sound of mind. But the… distant moments had become a more frequent occurrence, and it made her stomach sink when she walked into the next room and found her daughter just… standing there, a blank look on her face. But just as she was about to reach out and touch her, Hisako unfroze.

She still had a distant, sort of confused look on her face, but when she turned to face her mother, her voice was clear. “Mama? How come I never see Jenna anymore?”

Matsuri was thrown for a moment. Jeh-nuh? She blinked once and was silent for long enough that Hisako’s dazed expression grew impatient. But what on earth was Jenna? “Who, sweetheart?”

“My _friend_ , Mama,” she persisted firmly.

“From… daycare? Is… Jeh-nuh,” her tongue stumbled over the foreign sounds, “a friend from when you went to daycare?”

“ _No_ , Mama. The girl who lives next door. You know.”

Again, Matsuri was thrown. Their neighbors were a childless bachelor on one side and an elderly couple whose children had been off on their own since long before Hisako had been born. But her daughter sounded so _sure_. And it was nearing noon—she hadn’t just awoken from some strange, realistic dream. Was this an honest-to-goodness hallucination they were facing?

A million possibilities crossed her mind, none of them good. Matsuri really didn’t have much experience with the mentally compromised. Were you supposed to reason with them? Was Hisako _capable_ of understanding reality right now? At the last second, she chickened out. “I haven’t seen them. Maybe they moved away, honey.”

Hisako frowned, still looking a little confused and terribly sad, but she didn’t question her further. Hisako wandered back to her room, and Matsuri fought the urge to stand right over her shoulder. She continued to watch her carefully for the rest of the day, and Hisako’s eyes soon cleared. Almost as if the bizarre exchange that morning had never happened. But still Matsuri did not relax. She was an experienced kunoichi. It had been a long time since she’d let emotions cloud her judgment, but now she hesitated. She desperately wanted Hisako to be okay. Enough so that she would wait until she had something a little more concrete before getting doctors involved. Until she was absolutely certain it wasn’t something she could handle herself.

**…………**

It was getting worse. I was soon glad I had confided in Shinki, because I was no longer certain I could handle this on my own.

Every day I found myself assaulted by more and more foreign images masquerading as memories. And more often, they were coming to me the way that first day at the beach had—taking me out of this reality entirely. It was those times I was glad to have Shinki around to distract any curious onlookers, and doubly glad that we now spent so much of our day in lectures where most everyone zoned out anyway.

The only hitch was Araya, Shinki’s new brother. The boy was… strange, though I realized I had little room to judge. He was quiet, and Shinki had grown used to his constant presence very quickly, so I usually didn’t mind that he’d decided to tag along with us. But I knew he was also very smart and, though he never looked anyone in the eye, very perceptive. He was sure to have noticed something strange going on with me, though he never asked any questions. Shinki did not seem concerned, but I was apprehensive as to what he might do with this information. For we now had a more specific worry. If I was deemed mentally unstable, I would be kicked out of the academy, my future a big blank once more.

I frowned, tapping my pen against the notebook before me. Once again, this other reality had bled through to my current one. Since when had I had any worries about the future? It was not something I’d ever given much thought to. Shinki glanced over so I stopped my tapping, waving my pen in a way to indicate that I was fine. That I remained as firmly planted in the present as I ever was these days. Araya, too, angled himself ever so slightly in my direction, eyes glued to the page on the desk before him. So I quickly began writing, feigning normalcy until he turned away.

But I couldn’t focus on my notes. Not half an hour later, the distinct sound of giggling met my ears. I looked up ever so slowly and found the sound’s source three rows ahead of me on the other side of the room. There sat the girl with the long blonde hair who’d been featuring so prominently in my dreams lately.

Her sparkling eyes met mine, and she brought a hand up to shield her mouth. I could see her lips move but couldn’t make sense of her whisper. Only one word came through clearly. That now-familiar word that was still a mystery to me. Ronnie.

I snapped back to attention as our sensei began to berate another pair for talking during his lecture. My heart was pounding as though I was the one being punished, but he wasn’t looking at me. Of course he wasn’t. The little blonde girl didn’t _exist_ to be distracting me. And when I looked at the place where she _had_ been, there was only an empty seat. My heart began to slow, and I sat back in my chair. But I knew the next time Shinki looked my way—he hadn’t missed a thing.

**…………**

“You think you’re so _smart_ ,” Alyssa sneered, standing over me in the deserted stairwell where I had dropped to my knees after she’d knocked my things out of my hands. I winced now as she threw the one book she’d grabbed—a softcover mystery I was working through whenever I had even a few spare minutes in the day—over my head, down the stairs. My heart sank as I watched my bookmark fly in the opposite direction, imagining the previously perfect pages being bent past repair. “Why don’t you give someone else a chance for once?”

I had never been on particularly bad terms with Alyssa before. But I’d been seeing her a lot more this year as we shared a history class run by a teacher who was rather unfortunately set in her ways. What could I say? I’d always had a knack for remembering names and dates, and our teacher had soon learned that if the first person didn’t have the answer, I usually did. This was what had happened today, and Alyssa’s guess had been so off-base I’d had to wonder if maybe she’d misheard the question. Her face had flushed at the sound of giggling from some of our other classmates, and she’d turned to glare at me.

So here we were, but I was hesitant to do anything more than keep my head down. Alyssa was nothing like the bullies I’d read about in books. She wasn’t really the epitome of all things popular, for one, and she hadn’t needed an entourage of lackeys backing her up to corner me between classes. But she looked just as distressed now as she had during class, and that made my heart ache in response. So my voice was nothing more than a mutter, “That’s not what happened. It’s not like I was _showing off_.”

My feeble defense renewed her anger. “Are you calling me a _liar_?”

“What’s going on in here?” The new voice was bold and commanding, and I watched Alyssa flinch initially, expecting a teacher. But this voice was as familiar to me as my own, and when we both looked up, it was Jenna standing at the top of the stairs in all her glory. At twelve, she already had the confidence of a champion, standing with one hip out, her arms crossed over her chest, eyes glinting in a way that was downright intimidating.

“What do _you_ want?” Alyssa demanded, clearly unsettled.

“I _asked_ what the hell you think you’re doing to my best friend,” Jenna said instead in a dangerous voice. Alyssa was not brave enough to point out that, technically, this _wasn’t_ what she’d asked. My tormentor made a big show of huffing and stomping past me down the stairs, but we all saw it for what it was—a retreat.

It was only once the other door slammed that Jenna dropped to her knees beside me, helping me gather my scattered belongings. But my own hands stilled, taking in the sight of my best friend. A lump formed in my throat. Alyssa may have been a little ordinary, all things considered, but Jenna wasn’t. Jenna _was_ the epitome of The Popular Girl. At least, she could be. Beautiful, confident, charismatic. And loyal. The only thing holding her back, I realized with utter certainty, was me.

“Why haven’t you made other friends?” I blurted out suddenly, and Jenna’s movements slowed. She didn’t have to ask what I meant. Junior high was well into the time when choice of friends started to define who you were.

So she didn’t question me. But when she looked up, her eyes were fierce. “Because you’re the best friend I could ever ask for. And if no one else can see that, I don’t _want_ anyone else. I just want you.”

It was not unusual for Jenna to say such earnest, heartfelt things. She was fearless, in all areas of her life. It was one of the things I loved about her. I don’t know why I was able to brush those words aside so easily that day. As the years passed, I would grow more and more comfortable in Jenna’s shadow, not fully understanding how I had managed to land myself there.

**…………**

Shinki changed up the game the very next day. As we walked to the academy that morning, he informed me, ever so formally, that he had told Araya everything.

“He’s really smart,” Shinki insisted when I pursed my lips in silence. “He’s already come up with a few thing we never considered.”

He looked at his new brother expectantly, but the attention had him more stiff and evasive than ever. Though I was sure he was attuned to our every breath and footstep, his eyes remained fixed firmly on something—anything—else. So Shinki sighed and spoke for him.

“There are jutsu for this sort of thing. Ways for a person to get into someone else’s head. All the books on techniques like this are restricted and require shinobi status to view them—“

“Did you tell your dad?” I stopped suddenly, shoving Shinki off the path to stop him. Araya tensed up at the rough turn our walk had taken but halted his steps as well. “Because you _can’t_. They’ll think I’m crazy. I’ll be kicked out of the academy.”

“I haven’t told anyone,” Shinki rushed to assure me. “But we need to consider everything. It’s a valid concern, Hisako.”

His simple use of my name was enough to send my thoughts spinning these days. I tried to ignore it. “So what now?”

He frowned. “Well, if we can’t go to my father or any doctors…”

“There’s an old gypsy who lives on the edge of the village.” Araya’s voice was almost too soft to hear, and it made me stop to question whether I’d ever really heard him speak before. Neither Shinki nor I responded, but it was clear he had our attention. “Most people call her a witch, but she’s more like… a diviner. She can read a person’s spiritual energy.”

“And you know this woman?” I queried.

Araya didn’t so much as glance in my direction, but he nodded. “I still see her sometimes. When I visit Yodo.”

Yodo. I couldn’t put a face to the name, but I knew of her as a girl Araya would occasionally sneak off to visit and bring supplies to. Supposedly, according to Shinki, this was what had gotten him into so much trouble in the orphanage. Yodo couldn’t be controlled and so she was one of the few who was still allowed to slip through the cracks. And Araya, a liability to the system, became branded as a troublemaker. This was one picture that was starting to truly come into focus. I’d begun to understand why Shinki respected his foster father as much as he did.

So the very next afternoon, Araya led us down a series of streets my mother never would have let me take a second look at. But the boys both seemed confident, and I was curious. What was it our sensei always said at the academy? It’s a ninja’s duty to see their mission through to the end. Perhaps this could be considered my first mission.

It was down one of these shady back alleys that I met Yodo for the first time. The girl dropped down from somewhere above us, casually taking a space in our group. Neither of the boys faltered for a second, but I took this as an invitation to look her over.

Yodo was… beautiful. Not clean, exactly—she showed all the signs of one who lived on the streets. But that couldn’t stop her eyes from sparkling, and her long blonde hair was reminiscent of a certain someone… I watched as—faster than I could track her movements—she snatched something up from the ground. A bead or trinket of some sort. Something shiny and bright. She examined it for a second before threading it through her hair. Then, finally, she seemed to tire of having my eyes on her.

“What are _you_ looking at, Princess?”

“You tell me, Beauty Queen.” The words were immediate and also felt reminiscent of a certain someone. But that—the feeling that I shouldn’t bite back, that the snappy retort was someone else’s right—was almost enough to set my mind spinning again. Luckily, Yodo seemed to accept my response to her challenge. Shinki’s eyes drifted back to the path ahead, and Araya relaxed again, and we moved on.

Until at last we reached a little shack built up against the outer walls of the village. This positioning was enough to shroud it in shade for most of the day. A nice touch to a desert home in general, but especially so when we entered to find incense burning along every wall. The smells coalesced in a way that was not altogether pleasant, and the heat was stifling, but all four of us pushed ahead, showing as little reaction as possible.

Seated at a small table near the back of the big front room was an older woman. Most of her body was covered in deep-colored veils or else garb not uncommon for desert travelers. But many of the things I expected to see laid out on the table—a crystal ball, tarot cards, items belonging to a carnival gypsy—were absent. But then, I wasn’t sure why my mind had supplied those images. I’d never seen such a carnival.

“You’ve brought some friends today, Araya,” the woman commented mildly. Her voice was not the old croak I’d been expecting. There was nothing overly eerie about it. If anything, she sounded welcoming. Warm. And even Araya seemed to let down his guard a little in this setting. His voice was a little more confident.

“Yes. This is my brother Shinki. We have some questions about his friend Hisako.”

I stepped forward, taking my cue, ignoring the buzzing in my head that erupted at the sound of my name. There was a moment of silence as she sized me up from across the table.

“Yes…” she murmured at last. “You _are_ unsettled, aren’t you? Do you wish for me to read your soul, child?”

I took the seat across from her as my answer. She indicated that I hold out my hand, and I let her run her fingers over the lines of my palm. I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to be feeling at first. The woman worked in silence for a moment, finally asking, “What is your name?”

“Hisako,” I answered, trying to keep my voice steady.

But I spotted a small smile from under her veil. “Is it, though?”

The now-familiar spinning returned at her gentle prodding, and I felt a tingle spreading out from my very core. It was suddenly an effort to focus in on her words.

“What an interesting wavelength… So much conflicting input… But none from an external source. You’re not who you think you are.”

That was all I got before my vision whited out. All of my senses were assaulted by a cold I’d never experienced in this life. And a sudden onslaught of information.

Six degrees. Long blonde hair. The sounds of construction. Utter nothingness.

Immediately, I grabbed my hand back and the images stopped. But unlike all the other times, the things I had seen remained clear in my mind. The woman behind the table appeared unaffected by my reaction. My friends all tensed when the chair toppled over backwards behind me, but I was already moving. I bolted past the other three, looking to escape the stuffy little shack. But Yodo was quick on my heels, and the entryway was just as cluttered as the inside of the house. Before I could get clear of the building, I careened into a few boards leaning precariously up against the wall.

“Watch out!” Yodo screamed, rushing forward and shoving me ahead of the falling debris. There was another muffled shout as something must have hit her. There was just one hitch to her bold rescue. A rock or a flowerpot… I didn’t exactly get the best look at it before it came down on my head, and I embraced another sort of nothingness.

**…………**

Matsuri had always hated hospitals. Funny, how a place that was meant to be a safe haven was so universally hated. But the feeling was multiplied tenfold as she stood in the generic hospital room now, staring down at her daughter, locked in a medically-induced coma as the doctors examined the damage to her head. Matsuri felt a little like she was drowning. And the feeling was only made worse by the sight of the three mismatched children standing just outside, looking sad, a little lost, and distressingly helpless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a fun chapter to write. In part, because I think it’s the one where it’s the most clear that Matsuri’s and Hisako’s stories are meant to parallel each other’s a bit. But also because I’m having a fun time writing Gaara’s three adopted children, and I’ll probably end up writing them their own little story, at some point or another, to go into the aspects of their life and adoption (my headcanon for it, anyway) that don’t really fit into Hisako’s story.


	6. Six Degrees

It should have been such an ordinary day. The last day of school before the Christmas break. I woke up on time, after my parents had both left for work, ate breakfast, gathered my things, and walked over to the house beside mine.

Jenna’s mother let me in before I even had to knock. My best friend was awake but just barely. She was dressed, at least, seated at the kitchen table, picking at the breakfast set out before her. She gave me a half-hearted wave and gestured to the chair opposite her. But I heard her mother sigh warningly behind me. “Jenna.”

I smiled a little at her groan. There was significantly less to keep her motivated when volleyball wasn’t in season. She could rack up a few extra absences, her grades could afford to slip a little… But her parents were having none of it.

“I mean, seriously?” Jenna grumbled, shivering as we finally made it outside. “It’s a half day. We’re not even going to be _doing_ anything.”

I knew she was right. I also knew her attitude would perk up once she was fully awake. I wondered briefly what she would do once she was off to college—would her roommate be the type of person to lose patience with dragging her out of bed each morning? But this thought sent a pang through my chest that I wasn’t in the mood to analyze, so I quickly changed the subject.

“Remember how exciting it was, the first day we were allowed to walk to school on our own?”

It was no great mystery why I was feeling so nostalgic. It wouldn’t be long before Jenna and I were making this familiar journey for the last time. But my diversion worked. She laughed, gladly obliging my request.

“Of course! My mom was a nervous wreck! All that week we were arguing about whether twelve was still too young. And the school’s only, like, two streets away! I remember telling her over and over again about how kids in the city walk to school every day and there’s so much more that can go wrong there. And then, once I _did_ manage to convince her, _we_ were the nervous wrecks!”

I laughed along with her. We had almost been late that day. Jumping at every shadow. Turning a ten minute walk into an adventure twice that long. Today it was over much too soon. We filed into the school, joining the throng of students getting off the buses, and Jenna headed to her locker… But the secretary waved me over to the main office, and it wasn’t exactly like I could ignore her. I was that student all the office and cafeteria workers loved, if only because I was too nice to treat them like they were invisible when I didn’t need something from them, as was the norm for so many others. It was hardly like I could get away with ignoring her now.

So I pasted on a smile as naturally as possible and ducked inside as the other students surged past. We made pleasant small talk for a moment about the coming snow before getting to the real reason I’d been called into the office. By the time I left, it was with the added weight of a slip of paper requesting my presence in Ms. Paccard’s office before I left for the day.

Ms. Paccard was the guidance counselor assigned to the students whose surnames fell in the middle of the alphabet, like mine. She’d upgraded from being _Miss_ Paccard my freshman year—perhaps concerned about maintaining her authority now that she was approaching fifty and still single. In any case, I had not become truly acquainted with her until the latter half of my sophomore year when she ran the SAT prep sessions. It’s not that she’d ever been anything less than kind to me, but she was usually less than helpful. I knew what she wanted now. She thought I ought to be aiming higher than community college.

It wasn’t a conversation I was particularly excited to have. I was getting sick of being told how much potential I had—what a shame it would be if I didn’t go on to earn some competitive degree. Like maintaining good grades at this small town public school was really such a feat.

My sigh drew Jenna’s attention from the next desk. Here we sat in a class presided over by the one teacher who insisted on making use of every minute allotted to him. Jenna raised her eyebrows, but I knew no one else was paying any more attention to the chemical formula on the board than I was. My best friend slumped over onto her desk in an exaggerated gesture, and I gave her a small smile.

How was it that Jenna remained so unaffected by all the pressures of the future bearing down on us? The older I got, the younger I wanted to be, it seemed. I longed for the days when my greatest worries were that my spirited best friend would wise up to my dreariness and find a more fitting crowd to align herself with. These days, I’d begun daydreaming more and more of existing in a world disconnected from all my real-life responsibilities. A fantasy world, I knew. But appealing all the same.

There was no lunch period on a half day. All too soon, we found ourselves headed back to homeroom to await the final bell. I still had not told Jenna about my summons to the guidance office. I knew this extra ten-minute block at the end of the day was the perfect opportunity to get that meeting over with, but I didn’t get up to bring the pass to my homeroom teacher.

I mean, it was the last ten minutes before the winter break. Was it really so much to ask to leave the future alone, at least for now?

“What’s wrong, Ronnie?” Jenna whispered. “You’ve been weirdly quiet all day.”

Only Jenna was spared the trouble of having to specify how today differed from my usual quiet. She knew me too well to have the patience for that sort of deflection. I took a moment to mull over my answer. “Do you ever wish… we didn’t have to graduate?”

She scrunched up her nose. “What, and stay in high school forever? No thanks! You can’t have actually bought into the whole ‘best four years of your life’ drivel. What’s really going on?”

I didn’t find an answer before the bell rang, signaling our freedom. Jenna was one of the first to jump up, and I was close on her heels. I glanced briefly at the main office when we reached the ground floor… before pushing ahead with an extra burst of speed. I could deal with Ms. Paccard in a week and a half, when we got back.

Jenna didn’t question my mood. She just laughed and helped me to push through the crowd. We were soon met by the frigid air and veered away from the crowd of students shoving their way onto the buses. It should have been such an ordinary day… Except when I veered towards the main street that would lead to our neighborhood, Jenna grabbed my arm and we careened off onto the dirt path we took when we wanted to go the long way around. This path was part of the nature walk the science classes liked to take—for purely academic purposes, of course—when the weather started getting nice.

But Jenna and I would turn off on another side path about halfway through, where we would have to cross the railroad tracks. This path would take us around the backside of our neighborhood, and we usually cut through Jenna’s backyard when we started to regret the decision to prolong our journey home. The fact that Jenna would choose this route while the sky was threatening true winter meant she wanted to talk. I knew I’d been acting a little strange today and should have figured Jenna would catch onto that. But what was I supposed to say? _I wish we could be eight years old again_? Jenna was thrilled to graduate. For her, the future couldn’t come fast enough.

Luckily, my best friend knew when I needed space. It wasn’t her strong suit, but she would have to build up to the hard topics. So for now, her overly cheerful mood continued. “What a waste of a day, huh? And Mr. Bergen _still_ tried to teach!”

“Can’t say I expected any different,” I replied. Then, knowing this had been a lackluster response, I hopped up onto the railroad tracks, allowing myself to stray a little from the path as the tracks curved away. There was a very thin stretch of woods between us and an abandoned property behind the school that was currently under construction. The sounds of beeping and machinery clanking wasn’t having any trouble reaching our ears, but it was background noise. Almost too easy to block out.

Without warning, Jenna leapt up onto the tracks in front of me. I pulled back abruptly, so I just got the sting of her hair on my nose instead of an actual whip across my cheek.

“It’s so _cold_!” she exclaimed, and I had to smile. Jenna’s energy had always been infectious. I jumped down to the far side of the tracks and pulled out my phone, checking back in with my weather app.

“Six degrees,” I supplied, welcoming a way to pad the conversation. “First snow of the year should start tonight.”

Jenna groaned and hopped down onto the other side so that the railroad tracks separated us. “Ugh! When I get older, I’m going to live somewhere it _never_ snows!”

There’s no way to know where this conversation would have gone if we’d had more time. I’m sure I would have responded with something teasing and utterly banal, with as much optimism as I could muster. Jenna surely would have teased me back before finally going after the reason behind my distance today. But it wasn’t to be.

The air didn’t suddenly feel colder. The world wasn’t suddenly drained of all sounds. In fact, an ominous, near-deafening creaking sound assaulted our ears before we could continue. It only took a second to glance up and see the crane zooming down towards me. There was no time to so much as form another thought before I was engulfed in that now-familiar sense of utter nothingness.

But there was something else this time. Something that I was sure must have been invoked by the odd gypsy woman’s spiritual awakening, because I couldn’t possibly have been conscious of it at the time. The shrill, panicked voice of my best friend echoing through that void.

“ _Veronica_!”

**…………**

And there was my missing piece. Suddenly the puzzle made sense. I could remember being that shy little girl with the exuberant best friend. With a quiet jealousy, a love-hate relationship with her nickname, and a growing unease towards the future. In that moment, just coming to in the hospital… still in that state between my past and my present, I felt it all. All that I’d had and all that I’d not quite gotten to. All summed up in that one missing piece.

“Veronica,” I whispered before the darkness claimed me again.

**…………**

Matsuri was currently entrenched in the worst stake-out she’d ever experienced. The Kazekage had stopped by with his sincere well wishes. Both of his boys were apparently shaken up but physically fine. The other little girl—the one who’d tried to push Hisako out of the way—had been left with a broken arm. Matsuri knew she ought to track this girl down and express her gratitude—Yodo’s actions had turned what surely would have been a crushing blow into a grazing strike—but she couldn’t bring herself to abandon her post beside her daughter’s bed.

The only movement in the room was the steady rise and fall of Hisako’s chest. There was a thick white bandage wrapped around her head. Matsuri had never had much medical training besides basic battlefield first aid. The doctor had explained some complicated procedure they’d done to relieve the pressure on her brain… Matsuri thought it sounded suspiciously like they’d just cut another hole in her head, so she tried not to give that too much thought.

Which left her with plenty of time to think about other things. Were her own actions the reason she was sitting here right now? She had not thought to ask if Gaara knew why the children had made this expedition to visit some gypsy woman on the outskirts of the village. She just had this _feeling_ that it had something to do with Hisako’s strange behavior as of late. Had Matsuri not caved to her fear and brought her in to see a doctor earlier, would they be in this position right now? Perhaps she would have received some… unwelcome news. But if it was a choice between knowing her daughter was mentally compromised or her daughter becoming permanently brain dead… Well, was that a question that even had to be asked?

And the more time passed, the more unsettling her questions became. Was this the fault of her own compromised compartmentalizing? Had her judgment fallen victim to her wretched crush again? Her friends had urged her not to deny the other aspects of her life just because she had now embraced motherhood, but now she found herself making promises to whatever deity might be listening. If Hisako recovered from this, she would completely reprioritize. She wouldn’t even _look_ at Gaara unless absolutely necessary. She would live her life like a monk if that’s what it took.

The doctor had reminded her more than once as the hours passed that Hisako’s coma was medically induced. She wouldn’t wake until their observations were complete—and then only depending on their findings.

But Matsuri’s head shot up as Hisako’s breathing broke pattern ever so slightly. Her own breath caught in her throat as she watched her daughter’s eyelids twitch. All at once, they shot open, a single tear sliding down her cheek. She whispered one word that Matsuri couldn’t quite make out, and then her eyes closed again and her breathing returned to that even, regulated state.

Though at that point, of course, there were nurses and doctors rushing into the room to check their monitors, take her blood pressure again, pull back her eyelids to shine light in her eyes… Matsuri had stood up and backed away to let them work, but she found herself more relaxed than she’d been since first receiving the news of her daughter’s head injury.

She’d been reminded of something she’d known since the first day. Hisako was a fighter. Matsuri was suddenly comforted by an instinctive certainty. Hisako was going to be fine. And Matsuri would be there to support her in whatever came next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just the epilogue to go now... after which you'll see a longer note with my overall thoughts on the story.


	7. Epilogue: Closure

Everything changed after the hospital visit, though not as much as Matsuri had been expecting. Hisako was soon cleared to go home, with no lasting effects but the headache that was to be expected. And that would fade.

But Hisako herself seemed more than fine. A little melancholy at times, but Matsuri had not seen a single occasion of her daughter just blanking out the way she used to. As if the injury had knocked something back into place that had been missing. But Matsuri tried not to linger on that thought.

Things began to return to normal. Hisako was allowed to return to school, though any physical training was restricted until further notice from her doctors. But she seemed to find even the standard lectures fascinating now. Matsuri had noticed a new energy in her daughter since her return home. She’d always been aware of Hisako’s intelligence, but now she approached the world with a new enthusiasm. Matsuri couldn’t sense these changes. She had not discussed the severity of her injury with Hisako in much detail. So a newfound appreciation for life seemed like an extreme conclusion for a six-year-old to have come to, but Matsuri didn’t question it too much. She would not soon forget the way it had felt to sit in that hospital room, bargaining with unseeable forces for her daughter’s wellbeing.

And she was keeping up her end of that bargain. Matsuri had taken up meditation in the weeks since Hisako’s recovery. She wasn’t sure what the goal was, exactly. A better grip on her own mind, perhaps. In any case, she left the hospital that day with a renewed determination to focus on her own family… and leave Gaara to his.

Which seemed to be for the best. He had since taken in the girl who’d been with them that day as well. Matsuri sometimes felt overwhelmed by her one child. She couldn’t imagine how he was managing to look after three and run a village. It suddenly felt selfish to ask anything more of him.

No one tried to teach you _balance_ when you were a kid. Shoot for the stars, they said. Don’t limit your dreams. But Matsuri had spent a long time learning that limits were healthy, particularly when your dreams and desires involved other people. Matsuri was never going to live that picture-perfect fairy tale life so many little girls dreamed of. But that didn’t feel like such a loss anymore. Life was what you made of it, and Matsuri was aiming to make the best of the rest of hers.

**…………**

It was a little disorienting how much both everything and nothing had changed.

My puzzle was complete, and I was no longer plagued by a persistent, creeping feeling of wrongness. Veronica and Hisako were able to comfortably share the space where my name belonged. But this other identity was still finding its place alongside my time as Hisako.

So much of this second life had been spent chasing after the memories of my first… only to find a girl who’d been rather aimless. Now that my first life had been regained, I missed Jenna fiercely, but my time as Veronica still felt… empty. I had spent seventeen years hoping to siphon off some of her charisma and drive. That was no way to live a life.

Hisako was going to do things right; I would make sure of that. It was time to stop chasing the past and start looking towards the future. A future that was unfolding before me a little more each day.

I’d returned to school after a few weeks of my mother keeping me close. And to the untrained eye, it would appear that everything had returned to normal. And sometimes the monotony did make it feel like nothing had changed. But I knew better. Shinki had welcomed me back in his restrained way—but I could tell he was relieved at my recovery. The day I came back, Araya looked at me head on for the first time… from behind the new mask he’d taken to wearing. He’d always been perceptive, and the mask gave him the courage to face the world and observe everything even more thoroughly. And I didn’t have to look far to see where the idea had come from. A third addition had joined our little row in class. Cast on her arm, scowl in place, Yodo seemed as pleased to see me as the other two, in her own way. I had heard that she’d officially become Shinki and Araya’s sister in my absence. There was something about Yodo that was still a little wild, but she was undeniably happy with this new development.

And, with my friends and family at my side, I was ready to go forward and make my own happiness. When I’d first entered the academy, it hadn’t been due to any passion of my own. As I’d told Shinki, my mother was a shinobi, and so I was simply riding the current, unconcerned with where it might take me.

Now I saw every boring lecture in a new light. Now that I knew my past and remembered how limited my first life had been, this world felt magical. I was excited to see more of it. And if the simplest way to do that was to get good enough as a ninja to be sent on missions outside of the village, so be it. Maybe this wasn’t exactly the burning desire to protect my homeland that my sensei wanted to see in all his students. And maybe in the long run, the life of a kunoichi wouldn’t be for me. Maybe I would retire early and find some other way to travel the world and feel fulfilled. But maybe there were more surprises in store for me. And I was excited to find out.

I wondered about Jenna sometimes. I had come to understand that our friendship had not been so lopsided after all. One of us had just not fit into the world quite as well as the other. I wondered if she’d found something else to ground her the way I once had—some way to ground herself. I hoped so. Jenna had had such a bright future head of her. And now I was looking forward to figuring out mine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I went into my goals for this story a little at the very beginning. This story started out with just an image in my head of two very different little girls… and morphed into a story about the one who felt inadequate getting a redo on what she felt was a disappointing life. I mentioned in an earlier chapter that I also wanted to play with the idea of an OC who’d been reincarnated but didn’t remember her past life right off the bat the way so many of the ones I’ve seen do. I realize that this conclusion is a little open-ended… for both sides of the story. For Hisako, that was always the intention. She needed to understand her past life before she could really approach her new one with any sort of ambition. Matsuri’s is a little more difficult. But what can I say? Sometimes there aren’t perfect endings. Frankly, I wish there were more stories about crushes that are never requited or cleanly resolved. It may not be as satisfying, but it just feels more realistic to me. Anyway, if you’ve made it all the way to the end, thank you joining me! I'd love to know what you thought or got out of this.

**Author's Note:**

> The whole fic is Loosely based off of The Script song "Six Degrees of Separation," as you'll see in the chapter titles. I know it's a song about getting over a bad breakup, but... it felt like it could also describe the stages a person goes through when getting to know themselves.


End file.
